


A Profound Beige

by elfinmouse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 20:02:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfinmouse/pseuds/elfinmouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trenchcoat reflects on his life, from first stitches to now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Profound Beige

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to a prompt on the LJ commentfic comm. Unfortunately I didn't save the prompt itself or who made it.
> 
> It was written shortly after episode 7x1, so there are spoilers if you haven't seen it.

Trenchcoat draped over Castiel in a reassuring embrace as he told the Winchesters where to find the correct blood. Silently encouraging him that this was the right thing to do, and that everything would be alright.

Trenchcoat had begun his existence as three yards of waterproof cotton and faux-satin liner. Expertly cut out with precision blades on an assembly line, he’d been run through a series of sewing machines - one for each seam - before being pressed and folded into a cardboard box for shipment. 

He was one of many.

The initial excitement of reaching the shelves had dampened, then faded to despair as first no one purchased him, then they stopped even looking at him. Brushing past him to the next fancy coat on the rack. Then he was moved to the clearance rack. That was when Jimmy Novak had picked him up.

Trenchcoat had liked Jimmy. Over the years he’d slowly molded himself to the shape of the man’s shoulders. Jimmy had most often worn him in the rain and on special occasions. Trenchcoat had been draped over Amelia on a date, had hidden the nervous twitch of Jimmy’s shoulders and hands at his job interview, and been roughly yanked on the day Claire was born. 

And the day Jimmy said yes to an angel.

Castiel was altogether different from Jimmy. It had been love at first wear. He didn’t wear Trenchcoat as protection against wet and cold, but because he liked to. An eternity of being wrapped in the armor and robes of angels had made Castiel find comfort in the weight and tug of Trenchcoat on his shoulders. A twitch of Grace and Trenchcoat was factory-new and shaped to Castiel as though he’d never been worn by another. Castiel had run his fingers along his cuffs and sleeves and been pleased, and then never removed him. 

Castiel appreciated him; understood him because he was one of many as well.

Trenchcoat had soon learned to drape and flutter like the finest cape, the most noble of robes. He fell down from Castiels shoulders in such a way to give him the strength and majesty he so deserved.

Over the past three years, Trenchcoat had been there with Castiel through triumph and failure, through happiness and heartbreak, through death and rebirth. Threnchcoat had caught and stemmed the flow of Castiel’s blood, curled as a comforting warmth through the confusion of encroaching humanity, and walked with him through heaven and hell. Theirs was a bond as profound as any two comrades in the field of war.

Now Trenchcoat would see Castiel through to the end of this tragedy of his own making and into redemption.

As Bobby helped him up, Trenchcoat fell down in somber lines. If this was to be Castiel’s death, it would be Trenchcoat’s as well. As the spell began, Castiel nearly fell. He bunched up around Dean’s fingers and steadied his grip to help Castiel to his feet again. Trenchcoat’s seams tightened as Castiel turned back to apologize to Dean.

The abyss of Purgatory opened before them and the souls erupted from Castiel like a solar flair. Trenchcoat clung around his arms and flapped encouragement.

It all stopped far too abruptly, Castiel crumpling to the ground like a dead thing. For a moment, Trenchcoat felt nothing but cold and feared he was dead, but then the light and warmth of an angel’s grace rippled across his fibers as Castiel healed himself of the terrible burns. Buoyant with joy, Trenchcoat billowed around Castiel’s legs as Dean and Bobby helped him to his feet.

The joy was short-lived. 

A black twist of power stabbed up from within Castiel and they both shoved Dean and Bobby away. Trenchcoat bunched around Castiel’s neck and swung forward in horror as he curled and contorted in pain.

Like a light flickering, Castiel was gone. A cold and a rubbery sensation replaced the radiating heat and deceptively fleshy softness within his embrace. Trenchcoat lay limp in shock as the thing - the Leviathans - hurled Dean and Bobby like toys across the bloodstained room. As the Leviathans began to laugh, Trenchcoat’s fibers stiffened, pulling away in revulsion. He began to slide down off it’s shoulders (which did not settle the way they did when they were Castiels), reaching for the ground. His sleeves weakly rustled as far away from the foul black liquid that began to ooze from it’s pores and drip off it’s hands as they could. It soaked in where it fell from between the Leviathan’s lips; an oily, defiling stain on his tan fabric.

Trenchcoat stretched and slid and dragged downward, straining away from this thing that was not his beloved Castiel. Took advantage of every lopsided stumble and overcorrection to fall away from this thing that was NOT his beloved Castiel.

As the Leviathans stepped into the water, Trenchcoat grasped at the weight and force of it, using it to pull himself farther away. When they spilled out into the water, Trenchcoat twisted into the waters current and escaped, sleeves clinging in a moment of fear and denial to the hands that had once been Castiel’s.

The aftershock of the Leviathan’s passing carried him to the shore. Trenchcoat didn’t care. He floated in the shallow water and didn’t care if he was ever pulled out. Didn’t care if he ever saw the inside of a dryer again. Castiel was gone. His Grace would never mend his tears or wipe away his stains. Without Castiel he would never be whole and clean again. He would never fit anyone else.

Trenchcoat barely noticed as Dean pulled him from the water, wrapping himself into a ball around his hands and dripping water with a sorrowful squelch.


End file.
